


Wear Me Down and Wear Me Out

by HakeberHooligan



Series: Sterek Bingo 2019 [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: All of the things that come with M/M sexy times, Alpha & Emissary Gathering, And also some tropes, Because tropes are my life blood, Everyone Is Alive, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Oh hey it's set in Maine!, Peter Hale is a decent human being, SBAE, Sex Pollen, Sterek Bingo 2019, Stiles Is A Shameless Flirt, Werewolf Conferences & Conventions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-01
Updated: 2019-05-09
Packaged: 2020-02-15 14:42:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 19,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18671767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HakeberHooligan/pseuds/HakeberHooligan
Summary: The Ninth Decennial Greater Northern American Werewolf Symposium has arrived, and Stiles is dead set on going. Derek thinks he holds the trump card when he explains to Stiles that as a human, the only way he'd be safe is if he was Derek's mate. Of course, that deters Stiles approximately zero percent, and that's how he ends up parading around as Stile's (fake) mate.He should know better by now that where Stiles is involved, things have a funny way of never going according to plan.For Sterek Bingo 2019 prompt: Alpha & Emissary Gathering





	1. Stiles is a Pain in My Ass

**Author's Note:**

> Hey all! IT'S STEREK BINGO MONTH 😍 I have some really exciting fics planned 😄 I've been (im)patiently waiting for this since, like, February. I typically post at night, but I couldn't wait 😅
> 
> I'm trying out something a little different with this fic. The chapters are relatively short (between about 950-1250 words), but to make up for it, I'll be posting nightly, usually around 7-9CST. There will be a lot of nights where I'm posting for a few fics at once, because I have a few multi-chaps, and they need to be posted before the end of May. BUT! I digress. I hope you all enjoy this as much as I loved Writing it 🥰
> 
> Lastly, thank you to my wonderful Mother and beta, [Curlidee13](https://archiveofourown.org/users/curlidee13). You da best!

     “I’m going!”

_“No,_ you are not!”

     Derek and Stiles glare at each other, arms crossed and feet parted. The only difference is where Derek exudes authority, Stiles looks like a petulant child.

     “Your invitation said to bring a plus one! And who better than someone who can  actually _learn_ a thing or two?”

     Derek pinches the bridge of his nose and lets out a heavy sigh. They’ve been building up to this fight ever since he was hand-delivered the invitation by courier two months ago. Of course it had to be when the entire pack was present, because that was Derek’s life. His cosmic punishment for aligning himself with teenagers.

     They had pestered him until he’d  grudgingly opened the letter. Peter already knew it for what it was, and settled back into the couch, slinging an arm around Chris’ shoulder. He had the biggest Cheshire grin plastered to his face, the complete ass. Derek really didn’t want to go, but it was common courtesy and would be seen as rude if he skipped it.

     No one in the pack other than Stiles was particularly interested in attending The Ninth Decennial Greater North American Werewolf Symposium.

     “GNAWS? You’re wolfy reunion party is called GNAWS?!” Stiles had laughed so hard that he’d fallen out of his seat.

     Derek’s immediate first choice for a plus one had been Peter, because he’d been to the seventh Symposium twenty years ago. That idea was shot down when he received his own invitation the next day. Since then, it had been a constant push and pull with Stiles. It was casual mentions at first, and then gentle pestering, and now with the Symposium three days away, it’s devolved into full-blown arguments.

     “Well, if you’re not bringing me as your plus one, Peter can.” Stiles turns to Peter expectantly.

     “Oh, don’t drag me into your little spat. Besides,” he says, hauling Chris in by the waist and pecking his cheek. “I’m bringing Christopher.”

     Stiles gapes.

     “But he’s a hunter!” He accuses with flourish of his arms and a pointed finger.

_“Was_ a hunter.” Chris corrects. “Anyways, I need to go. There’s a whole network of pro-werewolf former hunters attending. As an Argent, I have considerable pull, and I need to work with them and the other Alphas.”

     “If you’re so important, why didn’t you get your own invitation then,” Stiles mutters. He turns back to Derek. “Derek, I will literally _die_ if you don’t bring me to WereCon!”

     “It’s _not_ called WereCon, Stiles,” Derek growls irritably. They’ve been over this at least ten times, but he still insists on calling it that.

     “Nuance,” Stiles says dismissively, waving a hand. “And besides, I can help you with your networking! I’m such a people-person. The _best_ of people-persons. Someone like you needs that.”

     The rest of the pack are sitting in various spots around the loft living room, watching the argument unfold. Isaac and Erica had literally made popcorn, and are currently tossing pieces at each other, trying to catch it in their mouths while enjoying bickering that doesn’t include them.

     “Stiles, you don’t understand. Bringing another werewolf with me, no one would be able to snipe them from the pack. It’s forbidden. But humans are fair game, whether they’re pack or not. The only way you’d be safe from unwanted advances would be if I claimed you were my mate.”

     Stiles just shrugs.

     “Okay, so do that then. I don’t care. We can tell people that we’re in the early days of our relationship, and too shy to show public displays of affection.”

     Derek tips his head back and looks up at the ceiling, silently asking for the strength of patience from any diety that will listen.

     “We’ll be in a resort _full_ of walking lie detectors. You can’t lie about something like that.”

     “Then we won’t be lying. Derek, you’re my boyfriend now. We’re officially dating.”

     “That’s not how it-” Derek starts to argue, but he’s cut off by Stiles mashing his lips over his own. Derek chokes down a surprised noise and pulls away in a very Stiles-like flail. The pack is alternating between cheers and boos. Derek catches a handful of popcorn to the face. Allison wolf-whistles.

     “We’re dating now. No takesie-backsies!” Stiles has a triumphant look on his face. “If you wanna break up _after_ the Symposium, that’s all on you bud.”

     And just like that, it’s apparently settled. Stiles is going to be the death of him.

     - - -

     Stiles has gotten bold since Derek first met him. Not like, _bold_ bold, because the kid has always run head-first into deadly situations whenever the occasion required it. No, he’s gotten bold as in flirtatious, suggestive, and downright shameless. After going away for a year of college, he came back a new man. He was confident to a fault. Gone was the skinny kid that was all limbs and graceless movements. Sure, he still flailed and waved his arms like a windmill, but blushing and longing looks were a thing of his past.

     He flirted with _everyone._ Loved the reactions he got. The only people who really gave him as good as they got were Erica and Peter. The three of them made a game of seeing how far they could push each other with sexual innuendos, provocative looks, and blatant declarations. Whoever blushed or stuttered first was the loser.

     Derek was like any other person to Stiles, which meant he wasn’t immune to the come-ons. But it was all in good fun, at least in Stiles’ head. Derek had been flabbergasted when, the first week Stiles had come home for summer break, he’d yelled, _‘yeah, take it off!’_ after Derek had peeled his sweat-soaked shirt off of himself during a pack sparring session.

     He had stood there, slack-jawed and blushing, until Stiles had broken the moment with a laugh, clapping his hands together.

     “You should see your face right now, Der. Priceless.”

     And then Stiles had started waxing poetic about Jackson’s ass, which had earned him snarls and glowing eyes from the unruly Beta. The rest of the pack had quickly fallen in love with this new, no-shits-given Stiles. Derek begrudgingly suffered through it.

     Every so often Stiles will say or do something so completely ridiculous that a laugh will bubble out of Derek. It’s not as if he _never_ laughs, it’s just not something that happens all the time. In those times, Derek would be lying if he said he didn’t feel a bit of fondness when Stiles broke out into a huge grin at the noise, preening at the fact that _he_ was the one to make Derek laugh.

     So yeah, Stiles was different now.

     But it was still a _terrible_ idea to bring him to the Symposium. Sure, he had changed, but at the end of the day he was still prey in the predator’s den.


	2. He Can’t Take Anything Seriously

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A wild chapter appears! I figured, might as well start posting my nightly updates starting today 🤷🏻♀️😂 Enjoy!

     Stiles was a ball of energy the whole way there. Two flights, one layover, and a two-hour drive with him talking non-stop, and all three men were happy to arrive at the secluded area of northern Maine where the Symposium was taking place.

     Miles of forest had been secured for the event. They parked their car in a parking garage in town and were transported from there. There was a newly-paved road that cut through the woods, and they traveled down that for about twenty minutes.

     Derek didn’t really have high expectations going into this, but when they pulled up to a massive, brand new, eight-story hotel, it definitely wasn’t what he was expecting. It looked wildly out of place with its surroundings.

     They get out of the car, grab their bags, and head into the hotel. Stiles gives a low whistle at their lavish surroundings. People are milling around; chatting, sipping drinks, and generally having a good time. It’s only 2pm, but they’ve been traveling since 11pm the night before, and Derek is beat. He wants to check in and grab a nap before tonight’s meet-and-greet at 8pm.

     Chris and Peter have their own room that adjoins to Derek and Stiles’. After getting their key cards, they ride the elevators up to the sixth floor, and walk down the hallway until they find their rooms.

     “See you for dinner,” Peter says to Derek and Stiles before flashing Chris a wolfish grin.

     “I’m going to be sleeping, so for the love of  _ god  _ keep the moaning to a minimum,” Stiles grouses, guessing how they’re going to be spending their free time.

     “That’s what the gag is for.” Peter has a glint in his eye. He pulls Chris into the room and slams the door behind himself before either Stiles or Derek can properly react to the statement.

     “Is it wrong that I kinda wanna peek through the connecting door?” Stiles asks after a long second. 

     Derek only rolls his eyes and walks into their own suite. There’s a living room area, and the door off to the right must be the connecting door. So he goes to his left, through another doorway, and stops in his tracks.

_There’s_ _one fucking bed._

     It’s huge, definitely a california king, but still. Derek drags a hand over his face and groans. It makes sense that they would have booked him a room with one bed; he had marked Stiles as ‘mate’ on the RSVP. He hears Stiles walk in behind him and cackle obnoxiously.

     “What’s so funny?” Derek grumbles, walking around the bed to the other side.

     “There was only one bed.” Stiles says solemnly with air-quotes before chuckling. “It’s like we’re in a bad fan fiction.”

     Derek is tired and he doesn’t have the energy for this right now.

     “It actually isn’t such a bad thing,” Stiles continues. “I _should_ probably smell like my Alpha boyfriend before we mingle tonight.”

     The suggestion sends an involuntary shiver down his spine. His inner wolf always preens whenever one of his pack calls him  _ Alpha,  _ and Derek chalks up the added effect to the fact that Stiles is human, and still calls him Alpha even though he doesn’t feel the same instinctual pull to.

     Stiles turns, back to Derek, and unbuttons his flannel overshirt. He lets it slip to the floor before pulling his T-shirt off, making it turn inside out. Then he removes his gym shorts, leaving himself in his boxers. He tosses the clothes at Derek, who has to scramble to catch them.

     “Give me your shirt and pants,” Stiles says. “We should wear each other’s clothes. You know, so we actually smell like we touch and whatnot.”

     Derek tries, he really does, but he can’t stop the  rush of blood as the tips of his ears turn pink.

     “Oh, my blushing, shy, werewolf boyfriend,” Stiles coos. Derek scowls, but strips to his briefs and tosses his clothes at Stiles. He pulls the T-shirt over his head, and is immediately swamped in Stiles’ scent. When he looks down to put on the pants, he catches sight of the T-shirt and a growl escapes his lips.

     “You little shit. You planned this, didn’t you?” He glares at the shirt he’s now wearing, which proclaims ‘TEAM JACOB’ in large white letters. He hears a laugh and the unmistakable shutter noise of a picture being taken. He snaps his head up to see Stiles with a huge grin, phone pointed at him.

     “Delete that!” Derek demands, but he can see Stiles fiddling frantically with his phone, most likely trying to send it to the group text. Derek leaps over the bed, aiming for the phone in his hands. Stiles squeaks and tries to escape, but he’s no match for an Alpha. All he manages to do is turn so his back is to Derek and stretches his arm as far away from his body as possible, phone in hand. Derek wraps one arm around his chest and swats at the phone with his other. 

     Stiles is giggling and desperately trying to navigate his screen with his thumb while Derek tries to knock the phone from his hand.

     They both freeze when they hear two loud barks of laughter from the adjoining room.  _ Oh, he’s done it now. _ Derek is going to put this pup in his place. His wolf surges to the forefront of his mind and he manhandles Stiles, throwing him on the bed before climbing on top of him. Stiles has stopped laughing, but mirth still sparkles in his golden whiskey eyes. He’s biting his bottom lip in an attempt to hide his smile.

     Derek lunges forward, clamping blunt teeth over the junction between his neck and shoulder, letting a low growl escape his throat. Stiles responds immediately, gasping and lifting his chin, exposing his neck in a show of submission. He’s seen this play out enough within pack spats to know better than to do anything different.

     After a tense few seconds, Derek lets go of his throat and sits up, resting on Stiles’ thighs.

     “Who else did you send it to?” He growls, letting his irises bleed red.

     “Only managed to get it to Peter,” Stiles pants, eyes wide. He doesn’t smell of fear, though, and his heartbeat - although jackhammering - remains steady. He’s not lying.

     Derek gets up off of Stiles and rounds the bed to grab his gym shorts, pulling them on. Stiles jumps off the bed and runs to the mirror, inspecting the red teeth marks on his neck.

_      “Dude,  _ this is totally going to bruise.” He says, prodding it gently with a finger.  _ Serves you right,  _ Derek thinks, but he’s thrown for a loop when Stiles turns to look at him, beaming. “Everyone is totally going to believe that we’re dating. Which, we are.”

     Once again, Derek is left wondering how this is his life. He rolls his eyes and crawls into the bed.

     “I’m getting some sleep before tonight,” he grouses before pulling the covers over his head.

     “Sure thing, cuddle buddy. I’ll be right there after I put your clothes on.”

     Derek is glad that the comforter is covering his head, so Stiles can’t make fun of his pinkened ears again.


	3. Everything is a Game to Him

     They get up an hour before dinner and take turns in the shower. Derek goes first, and is currently in the living room. He’s sitting on the couch in just his pants, flipping through the tv channels. Stiles comes out of the bedroom with a towel slung low on his hips. Another is in his hand, drying his hair. Derek tracks his movements as he tosses the extra towel over the back of the couch and walks over to the connecting door, opening their side, and knocking.

     It’s a solid ten seconds before Peter opens his own door and sticks his head through, hair tousled and lips pink and puffy.

     “Well don’t you look thoroughly fucked,” Stiles jibes, earning a predatory grin from the older man.

     “Not quite as thoroughly as I’d like to be, sweetheart, so make it quick.”

     Stiles steps right up into Peter’s personal space, baring his throat. Derek has to clamp down on the growl that threatens to escape his chest.

     “How do I smell? Do I smell like I’m Derek’s?”

     Peter’s eyes fall on the bite mark, and he smirks.

     “Well you certainly  _ look  _ like his.” He snakes an arm through the gap and drags Stiles in close by his arm before shoving his nose right onto Stiles’ neck, inhaling deeply. “It’s minute. You two need to roll around together a bit more. It doesn’t smell  _ intimate  _ enough.” 

     He looks over at Derek and winks. Derek curls a lip back in warning.

     “Okay, thanks. Now get back to getting dicked,” Stiles says cheerfully. Peter doesn’t even argue the insinuation that he’s bottoming, just flashes a toothy grin and closes the door. Derek isn’t even nonplussed at this point; that’s par for the course with those two.

     Stiles walks over to Derek and stands in front of him, hands on his hips. Derek just stares blandly back. 

     “So, scent me.” Stiles says, holding his arms out at his sides like he’s some sort of gift.

     “I really don’t think we need to-” Derek starts, but Stiles cuts him off.

     “Look, I know my body is, like,  _ super _ intimidating, but I’ve got nothing on you. You don’t need to be self-conscious, Derek.” He uses his best belittling tone, and there’s an uptick to the side of his mouth. As expected, it spurs Derek to prove him wrong. He stands and grabs for Stiles.

     “Get over here,” He growls, yanking him forward and pressing their bare chests together. Stiles lets loose a tiny yelp of surprise before he chuckling and tilting his his head to the side and back, baring his throat in clear invitation. Derek couldn’t stop the rumble of appreciation in his chest if he wanted to. It doesn’t seem to put Stiles off, though.

     “Oh my god, you’re  _ such  _ an Alpha,” is all he says as Derek rubs his nose and cheeks against the sensitive skin. “Hey! Lighten up on the scenting there, buddy. You’re going to give me beard burn.”

     Derek responds by dragging his cheek especially hard against his throat, eliciting a hiss from the teen.

     “Isn’t that kind of the point?” His voice is husky when he whispers the words near Stiles’ ear. Stiles shivers and lets out a strangled  _ nngh _ noise, before pushing Derek away. His cheeks are flushed and his pupils are blown.

     “Okay, okay! You win, Big Bad.”

     Derek smiles smugly at him.

     “Don’t wage a war you can’t win,” he replies, plopping back down on the couch. Then he catches the look of determination in Stiles’ eye.  _ Shit.  _ Poor word choice.

     “Oh, so it’s a war to be won, is it? Have you _seen_ how many times I’ve made _Peter_ blush? And you think you can take me? Oh, it is _on,_ Big Bad.” And then he slinks back into the bedroom, but not before dropping the towel around his waist on the way, giving Derek an unobstructed view of his pert ass.

     Derek groans and hits the back of his head against the wall several times. Why,  _ why,  _ had he let Stiles talk him into bringing him?

     - - -

     The four of them meet in the hallway before heading down for dinner. Stiles is wearing a graphic tee that says ‘Shift Happens’ with a Hollywood rendition of a werewolf howling at the moon. The neckline is just low enough to show off most of bite Derek had given him earlier. Peter snorts when he sees the shirt.

     “I’m team Jacob too,” Chris says, leaning in and giving Derek a playful bump with his shoulder. Stiles and Peter burst into laughter, and Derek growls at all three of them.

     “Lighten up, sweet cheeks!” Stiles says, giving his ass a slap. Derek jumps and turns to glare at the infuriating teen.

     “There’s no one around to pretend for,” Peter says with an arched brow.

     “Oh, that?” Stiles says casually. “It’s personal. Derek seems to think that he has the prowess to reduce me into a stuttering, blushing, puddle of goo. I wholeheartedly disagree.”

     Peter catches on immediately, and starts laughing again.

     “Oh, dear nephew, what a hole you’ve dug for yourself. This is going to be entertaining indeed.”

     Derek feels like he needs to get the upper hand. His pack is laughing at him, and it doesn’t sit well with his wolf. So he grabs Stiles by his biceps and shoves him against the wall before delivering a searing kiss. It’s not fueled with passion; it’s a show of dominance. Stiles leans into the kiss, and their lips press against each other with more force than necessary. Derek sucks Stiles’ lower lip into his mouth and gives it a tug with his teeth before pulling away, leaving Stiles breathless.

_      “No one  _ challenges the Alpha,” He growls.

_      “Fuck,  _ that was hot,” Stiles sighs, still looking slightly dazed.

     “Hell yeah,” Chris agrees.

     Stiles clears his throat and stands straight.

     “Quite the bar to set. I’ll still beat you, though.” His dark grin is filled with unspoken promises that have Derek swallowing thickly. He’s so out of his depth, floundering, but he won’t admit defeat. He  _ won’t. _


	4. But at the End of the Day He’s Pack

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Glad you're enjoying this 😘 I've decided to post two chapters a night. They're really short (For reasons, but still), and even I was like, "Wait, that's it?!" when I was doing one last read-through of last night's chapter 😂 So y'all get two a night, until all seventeen chapters are posted. Things are going to start getting interesting real fast!
> 
> Oh, and I forgot to mention this in the notes for the first chapter, but for the sake of the plot, Deucalion hasn't interacted with any of these guys since they defeated the Alpha Pack. Reunions, yay!

     Dinner is done in waves. There’s somewhere between seven or eight hundred people attending, and even with the huge banquet hall it’s still not enough to seat everyone. The four of them mill about the adjoining conference room, which houses a long bar and a large, open space. There are tables and chairs that line the walls, and some people have overflowed into this room, carrying plates from the buffet. They’re stacked with every meat imaginable, along with all the fixings, and the smell is mouthwatering. They had all snacked back in their rooms though, so they’re in no rush.

     Stiles is exuberant that he’s being allowed to drink. The Symposium has very few children in attendance, and the drinking age is determined individually by pack Alphas. Derek sees no issue in allowing him two or three.

     He’s already on his second wolfsbane-infused beer himself, helping him loosen up a bit. There’s a few hundred Alphas in attendance, and even though fighting is strictly prohibited, he still can’t shake the sense of tension. He’s not the only one though, and the plus one’s stick close to their Alpha’s sides as comfort companions.

     Derek is at the bar right now, ordering Stiles a drink. He chuckles to himself when the bartender passes him the Sex on the Beach that he ordered, complete with a little umbrella.  _ Let’s see his face when I hand him this,  _ he thinks.

     He’s walking back to his pack, and catches snippets of conversation as he gets closer. Stiles, Peter, and Chris are standing in a large circle with several other Alphas and their guests. Stiles arms were waving wildly in the air, bringing his story to life.

     “... and he was  _ massive.  _ Black smoke curled around his body, he had huge red veins, and a mouth like you wouldn’t believe.  Glowing electric blue eyes with no pupils or whites. Ten feet tall, at  _ least.  _ Chris was instrumental in bringing him down. His ancestor was the one who did it the first time.”

     Derek stands to his right and places his hand on the small of Stiles’ back, making the teen jump. When he turns and sees that it’s Derek, a genuine smile lights up his face. He leans in and pecks Derek on the cheek like it’s the most normal thing in the world. It takes Derek by surprise, and he ducks his head a bit.

     “Hey, babe. I was just telling these guys about the time we took down The Beast of Gévaudan. You missed all the fun, of course.” His eyes drop down to the drink, and he freezes for only a second before thanking him and taking the drink confidently in hand, sucking a long drag from the straw.

     “Your mate has had some pretty amazing adventures, for a human,” a woman in the circle says, though not unkindly. “He’s quite a catch.” She looks Stiles up and down, and Derek instinctually shuffles closer to him, gripping his hip and pulling him in close.

     “I’m very lucky to have him in my pack.” Derek replies. “What he lacks in brute strength, he makes up for with his cunning intellect.”

     Stiles blushes next to him, and his heart beats a little faster.  _ Oh. _ Has he found a chink in Stiles’ armor? Maybe if he can’t win with blatant touching and sexual innuendos, Derek thinks that praises and compliments might be his trump card. He addresses the group as a whole.

     “Did he mention the time that he treaded water for an  _ hour  _ while holding me afloat? I had been paralyzed by a kanima. He saved my life.”

     The group is all  _ oohs  _ and  _ aahs,  _ and Derek turns to look at Stiles, triumph swelling in his chest as pink splotches paint high on his cheeks.

     “You would have done the same for me,” He mumbles, looking back at Derek with sincere eyes. The look is disarming. Suddenly, the moment is getting a little too real for comfort.

     “I hear you also went head-to-head with a Nogitsune. Tell us about  _ that  _ endeavour.” A familiar voice with a lilted accent breaks through the moment. Stiles’ face turns sour and crumples at the mention of the Nogitsune. It’s still a subject he doesn’t like to talk about.

     “Deucalion,” Derek says through gritted teeth, trying to remain pleasant. He glares at the former enemy who tried to destroy his life almost three years ago. The rest of the group senses the tension, and  they all quickly find reasons to disperse. Before long, it’s just the five of them. Stiles presses closer to Derek’s side, even as Peter takes up a spot on Stiles’ left, and Chris stands behind him. In that moment, Derek is just so damn  _ proud  _ of those two. Not a word was spoken, and then both understand the importance of protecting the youngest pack member in their group.

     “What a pleasant surprise, Derek. Chris, how is your father doing?”

     Chris sneers at the blind wolf from over Stiles’ shoulder, not deigning to answer him.

     “How are you even here?” Stiles asks, pulling away from Derek to stand tall. 

     “Well, I do  _ own  _ the place,” Deucalion drawls, looking like the cat that got the cream. Derek wants to punch the glasses right off of his stupid face.

     “I see. You must have quite the bank account, you know, since you’ve inherited the pack money from all of your dead Alphas.” Stiles throws back, all while sounding casual.

     Deucalion’s smile falters, and a tick works in his jaw. Derek places a hand on Stiles’ nape and gives it a gentle squeeze.  _ Good job. _

     Deucalion changes tactics.

     “So Derek, Stiles is your mate now? I have to admit, that’s a bit… unexpected. Almost seems fabricated to me. You’re such a clever boy, Stiles, and it would be a shame on Derek’s part if another pack with more to offer sniped you.”

     Derek opens his mouth to snark a response, but Stiles is quicker.

     “What can I say? I’m a slut for a big, juicy, Alpha Hale cock.” His heart doesn’t stutter, but that’s not the case for everyone else. Peter chokes on the air, Chris has to hold in a snort, and Derek lets out a ridiculous,  _ ‘Uuuum,’ _ because it’s the last thing he would have expected from Stiles.

     It seems to have the desired effect though, because Deucalion turns a furious shade of red and he sputters for a few seconds. Without another word he turns heel, and waving his stick frantically as he walks away, clearly done with the conversation now that he realizes he won’t be able to one-up Stiles a second time.

     It’s a tense few seconds before he’s far enough away, and Stiles lets go of a shaky breath with chuckles.

     “You see the look on that asshole’s face?” He says, trying to play off the interaction with humor. Peter places a hand on his left shoulder, and Chris rests one on his right. Stiles sighs and lets his eyes close, leaning into their touches. Then he’s clearing his throat and standing straighter.

     “Thanks, guys.”

     “It’s what pack does, Stiles,” Peter says softly. “And also, impressive with that lie about Alpha Hale cocks. Didn’t even hear your heart stutter.”

     Peter claps Stiles on the back and Stiles laughs, this one sounding much more genuine, while Derek fights the blush he knows is trying to spread across his face.

     “Well objectively, who  _ wouldn’t  _ want that?” Stiles replies. 

     And just like that, Deucalion is forgotten. They go back to their easy mingling, eat some food, and meet a few more packs.


	5. MAYBE I’ve Thought about Kissing Him Before

     The night wears on, and they continue their little game of push and pull. Derek finds that he’s actually having fun. He  _ does  _ has to keep reminding himself that every touch, every whispered promise, every heated look is all part of the act. But this easy banter between him and Stiles? It’s kind of nice.

     They’re sitting at the bar, and Derek is on his fourth drink. He’s a little tipsy, a little looser. Stiles has just finished his second, and Derek thinks that with his human constitution, they’re probably on an even playing field at this point. They’re facing each other, and Stiles is leaning in close to Derek, their foreheads almost touching. Peter and Chris had broken away about twenty minutes ago; Chris saw some old hunters that he’d wanted to talk to.

     “So are you keeping track? Because I think I’m winning,” Stiles says lowly, maintaining eye contact even as one of his hands slide up and down Derek’s thigh. Derek feels like even though Stiles is right, that he’s got the upper hand, in no way does it feel like he’s losing.

     “I don’t know, I still think I can platonically seduce you.” Derek purrs with a wolfish grin, reaching up to cup Stiles’ face and dragging his thumb over Stiles’ bottom lip, making it pull down. Stiles leans into the touch and captures his thumb in his mouth, enveloping it in warm, wet heat. He gives it a strong suck before gently biting down on it, pulling his teeth across the skin as he slowly pulls off with a truly vulgar pop. Neither of them have broken eye contact yet.

     Derek’s mouth falls open and his breath hitches. Stiles is leaning forward, and there’s a look of  _ intention  _ in his pupil-blown eyes. Derek would be lying if he said he didn’t pick up the change in his scent when it becomes sweet with arousal.

     Stiles finally breaks his gaze, but it’s to look down at Derek’s mouth, and his tongue darts out to wet his lips. Derek lets out a small whine at the sight. He’s leaning forward too, and now their noses are touching… 

     “Am I interrupting?” The both jump backwards, moment ruined. Stiles actually falls off his barstool with a yelp and a flail. 

     Derek glares at Deucalion, and his eyes may or may not flash red for a second.

     “I thought you were done with us,” Stiles grouses, picking himself off of the floor and plopping his butt back down on the stool. His cheeks are flushed, and Derek would like to imagine it has nothing to do with the summer heat, or the embarrassment of falling over.

     “Quite the contrary,” Deucalion continues, as if he hadn’t just interrupted something very important. “I came over to apologize. Derek, would you mind if I had a word with Stiles?”

     “Like fucking hell,” Derek growls.

     “Derek, it’s okay.” Stiles says, giving him a small, reassuring smile. “Duke here just wants to talk, right? There’s nothing he can do here, in a room full of Weres.” He turns to Deucalion with a sweet grin, words full of sugar and dripping with acid. “He’s completely powerless here.”

     Deucalion curls back his lip at the jibe, but quickly schools his face into something more pleasant. Derek doesn’t like it, but he trusts Stiles.

     “I’m going to the bathroom. I’ll be back in a few minutes,” he grumbles, pushing out of his seat and stomping away. He spots Chris and Peter, and makes his way over to them. Peter is giving him a knowing look, which tells him that he’s heard the whole thing. Derek wonders how much he heard before Deucalion showed up.

     “Keep an eye on Stiles.” He says on his way by, mood soured. He goes to the bathrooms and stands in front of the sink, splashing himself with cool water and rubbing his hands over his face.

     What were he and Stiles doing? Where did the act end, and true feelings begin? He’s been mildly attracted to him for some time, but it was something he never even considered pursuing. Stiles was  _ pack,  _ not to mention nineteen to Derek’s twenty-five.

     He’s not saying that Stiles is still a child, because he’s seen and experienced so much more than most middle-aged adults. In his mind, the kid is more than mature. But he’s still so  _ young,  _ and he’s going back to school in September, and why the fuck is Derek even thinking about this?

     He wipes his face dry and uses the bathroom before heading back. Stiles and Deucalion are holding up shot glasses, clinking them together before throwing their heads back and downing the liquid. Derek feels a pang of jealousy at the act. He walks up and presses the side of his body against Stiles, wrapping an arm around his shoulders.

     “Everything good, babe?” The term of endearment rolls off his tongue like it's the most natural thing in the world. Stiles is all for the possessive streak though, and snuggles in underneath Derek’s arm.

     “Yeah, it’s good.” He replies, leaning over to peck Derek on his prickly stubble. His lupine side preens at the display. Deucalion looks at - or, rather, has his face angels towards - the two of them, and he smiles. It  _ almost _ looks genuine.

     “Well, I must be going now. Enjoy the rest of your night. And really, I am happy the two of you found each other.”

     He gets up off the stool and saunters away. Derek can’t help but wrinkle his nose at the smug scent he leaves in his wake. He takes his spot back on the bar stool.

     “So what did he want?” Derek asks.

     “Honestly, just to apologize and then to toast to our relationship. It was kind of weird, to be honest, but he seemed sincere enough.” Stiles shrugs, then perks up. “He said there’s a dance club on the floor above us. Care to take me for a spin?” He waggles his eyebrows, and Derek laughs.

     “Sure, let's go grab the guys. Peter secretly loves to dance.”


	6. He’s a Shameless Flirt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry i'm posting tonight's updates a little late! My mini-me heathen didn't want to go to sleep 😅 Are we getting close to a full moon? Because it sure does feel like it 😂 Anywho, here's chapter six, and I'll toss up chapter seven in a few 😘

     The four of them take the elevator to the second floor. While they're making the short transit, Derek notices that Stiles is being a bit more twitchy than normal. He’s rolling his left to right, and rubbing his palms on his jeans. He’s also giving off an unfamiliar smell, but it’s not unpleasant. It’s somewhere between sweet and salty, with a hint of vanilla. Derek has to stop himself from leaning in and taking a whiff.

     Then the doors open, and Stiles is grabbing his hand, pulling him towards the open doorway at the end of the hall.  Through the double doors, the only lights are a pulsing laser show, and music thumps in the air. Stiles drags him through a press of bodies, searching out a spot that he deems fit. Derek has no clue what his criteria is, but is content to follow his lead.

     Stiles stops and spins around, right into Derek’s arms. He presses their bodies close together and shamelessly grinds against Derek, swiveling his hips. It takes Derek’s breath away. Is this still the game? His head is spinning so fast, it leaves him dizzy.

     Stiles, on the other hand, is in his own little world. He’s laughing, throwing his head back and just so full of unbridled  _ glee.  _ It’s contagious, and Derek feels a smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. He licks his lips as he stares at the expanse of pale skin on full display. Fuck it. They’re supposed to be dating, right?

     He gives in and licks a long stripe from Stiles’ collarbone to his jaw. His taste is more intoxicating than the scent that’s rolling off of him, which is steadily growing in pungence. He tastes like heat and sunshine and California woods. It takes Derek a moment to realize that he’s sucking a large hickey into the crook below his jaw, he was so drunk off of the taste of him. He pulls back quickly, but it’s hard, because Stiles has his fingers tangled in his hair.

     “Why are you  _ stopping,  _ Der? Feels so good,” He says with a small whine. Derek swallows thickly, looking into those hypnotizing honey-brown eyes. His head feels foggy, and the taste of Stiles still sits heavy on his tongue, making it tingle.

     “Stiles, I… you smell- you  _ taste-”  _ Derek has to stop to clear his throat. He sounds absolutely wrecked. Stiles just leans in closer, snaking his hands over Derek’s hips and down to his ass. He sticks his hands in the back pockets and grabs his ass. Derek yelps, actually  _ yelps,  _ but that’s completely due to the fact that Stiles has manhandled him, lifting him a few inches off of the floor.

     “Stiles!” He gasps. He has to grab onto his shoulders to maintain his balance.

     “Mmm, yes Alpha?” Stiles asks, placing him down so he can lick and nip up Derek’s neck, and Derek makes another embarrassing noise, but for entirely different reasons.

     “Stiles, focus.” Derek gives his head a small shake. He needs to focus too. “Something’s not right.” He should  _ not  _ be able to lift Derek so effortlessly.

     That’s when Peter is grabbing Derek’s arm in a grasp slightly too firm.

     “Something isn’t right with Stiles,” He grits through his teeth, and points his chin to the people surrounding them. Several Weres are flashing their eyes, red and blue and gold, and they’re looking at Stiles like he’s their next dinner. Derek can sympathize.

     “Do you smell it too?” He asks Peter in a strained voice. Peter nods sharply, clamping his teeth together. Derek grabs Stiles and starts hauling him out of the room towards the elevators.

     “Der, no. I’m having fun!” Stiles complains, and damn, but when did he get so strong? It’s not enough to resist Derek, but it’s more than enough to put up a fight. Peter takes his other arm, and Chris is at his back. Stiles stops struggling and looks up at Derek with a lazy grin on his face.  _ “Oh,  _ never mind. I think I like this better.”

     He’s a giggling mess all the way to the elevator, and the scent he’s giving off is getting more difficult for Derek to ignore. It’s stronger now, and more people are staring at them as they pass, lifting their noses and trying to get a better whiff. He actually has to growl at a Beta that gets a hair too close, flashing angry red eyes at the man.

     Finally, they get into the large elevator. There’s two people already in here, but a low warning growl from Peter has them skirting around, mumbling that they’ll take the next one. The doors close, and Derek lets out a heavy sigh. It’s short-lived, because Stiles is all up in his business, grinding against his leg and trying to capture his lips in a kiss.

     “Stiles, focus. What’s going on?” Derek asks, gently trying to peel him off. This has definitely gone past their little challenge. He can tell that something isn’t right. Stiles is acting like he’s sex-crazed and drunk. He’s far too strong, and that scent…

     “Der, just let me kiss you, just a little,” he’s grabbing for Derek’s face and fighting against the Alpha’s efforts to restrain him. Peter and Chris both reach for his arms, and the three of them try to subdue him.

     To say it goes poorly is an understatement.

     Stiles allows them to pull him back, but only so he can turn and pin Chris to the wall, locking their lips together. Chris lets out a muffled cry of surprise. Stiles lets go of him before he can do much else, then he’s staring Peter down, stepping towards him with intent.

     “Settle, Stiles, we need to figure this out.” Peter has his hands up, and sounds like he’s talking to a feral animal. Which, not so far off the mark. Stiles relents however, stepping backward and slumping against the wall. He runs his hands up and down his thighs, stomach, and chest, biting his bottom lip and moaning in the most lurid way possible.

     “Just, someone touch me,  _ please.  _ Need something, anything…” he has a blush high on his cheeks, and the scent is coming off of him in thick waves now. Derek has to squeeze his eyes shut and shake his head to get rid of the fog. It’s taking all of his willpower not to give in and rut him up against the wall. He locks eyes with Peter, who actually seems to be fairing a bit better than he is.

     “You good?” He asks his uncle anyways. Peter nods vigorously, and Derek can tell that he’s only breathing through his mouth.

     “What is this?” Chris asks. “What’s going on?”

     “I don’t have a clue,” Peter growls, frustrated. “But Stiles smells… frankly, he smells like sex on a stick. It’s intoxicating. He has to be on  _ something.” _


	7. Something about Him gets Under My Skin

     The elevator dings and the doors slide open. There’s two women standing there. Once the scent hits them, one flashes red eyes, and the other flashes blue.

     “Who are  _ you?”  _ The beta purrs at Stiles as he stumbles past the men and into the hallway. She goes to grab him and Derek steps to intervene, but Stiles can still handle himself, apparently. He bats her hand away with a frown.

     “I’m property of the Hale pack,” He growls, and damn, if that isn’t a decent impression of a werewolf. The woman looks stunned at his boldness, and it’s an awkward few seconds when they stand to the side, allowing the men to get off before they step into the elevator. Derek can see them inhaling deep breaths as the doors close. He rounds on Stiles.

     “Room,  _ now.”  _ He orders.

     “Ohmigod,  _ yes.”  _ Stiles replies breathlessly, pushing Derek until his back hits the wall. He slots their lips together and kisses him damn near senseless. Derek groans. It’s all too much. His scent, his taste,  _ him.  _ Everything about Stiles is so completely disarming. Derek parts his lips and Stiles takes it as an invitation, spearing his tongue into Derek’s mouth and caressing the roof.

_      “Derek,”  _ Peter growls, and Chris is trying to step in between the two of them, not that it seems to matter much. Stiles isn’t going to be moved unless he wants to. He does pull away though, and Derek feels like his head is a little more clear without Stiles’ scent right under his nose.

     Derek belatedly realizes that he’s only allowed himself to be moved because he’s mauling Chris once again, grabbing him by the lapel of his shirt and peppering his neck with kisses. Chris is walking backwards as best he can, trying to escape.

     “Stiles, honey?” Peter says in a smooth tone, cupping Stiles’ face. Stiles likes the attention, and lets go of Chris in favor of turning to his uncle, running his hands under the bottom hem of Peter’s shirt. Peter doesn’t let it distract him. “Let’s get you to the room, hmm? Then we can do all sorts of fun things.”

     Stiles nods, mouth slightly open and eyes hooded. Derek is about to tell Peter off, but then his uncle is giving him a pointed look, and Derek understands that he’s just indulging Stiles to get him to the suite without any more attacks.

     Once they’re all in the room, Stiles is attempting to grope and touch all of them. He’s a handful, and with the added strength, difficult to subdue. Derek manages to get him to sit on the couch, and sits on the coffee table across from him.

     “Stiles, I need you to focus, I need to talk to you.” Stiles leans back and squirms on the couch, rubbing the heel of his hand over the obvious bulge in his baggy pants and moaning. “Stiles!” Derek barks, snapping his fingers in front of the teen’s face. He’s close to losing his patience, closer even to losing his control. Stiles blinks a few times and sits up straight.

     “What do you need, Derek? Tell me what you need, I’ll give it to you.” He’s panting slightly, and Derek can barely make out the dark golden hue of his irises, because his pupils are so dilated.

     “I need you to answer some questions, okay? That’s what I need. Can you do that for me?” 

     Stiles’ eyes flutter closed, and he nods.

     “Okay. Have you eaten anything funny? Did you take something, like a pill, or dried herbs?”

     Stiles shakes his head back and forth, and then lunges forward, pressing his lips to Derek’s. It takes all of Derek’s willpower to pull back. Stiles pouts and settles for running his hands up and down Derek’s thighs instead.

     “Deucalion,” Peter growls suddenly.

     “What about Deucalion?” Derek asks, turning away from Stiles so he can face his uncle. It’s a mistake, because now Stiles’ hands are at his belt, trying to undo it. He turns back to Stiles and grips his wrists. Stiles allows it, doesn’t fight against him. He only whines and tries to kiss him again.

     It makes Derek feel dirty, but he goes for blatant lies.

     “Stiles, why don’t you go into the bedroom, make yourself comfortable on the bed? I’ll be right in when I’m done talking to Chris and Peter.” 

     Stiles perks up at that, and stops trying to assault Derek. Then he looks over Derek’s shoulder at the two men.

     “Can they come too?” He asks, eyes full of hope and lust and heat.

     “Of course. Give us a few minutes, and then we’ll all come in.” He says with a smile, lying through his teeth.

     “Mmm,” Stiles hums. “Six hands all on me at once. Can’t wait.”

     He gets up and walks into the bedroom. Peter slams the door shut behind him.

_      “Deucalion,”  _ He says again, spitting out the name like it's personally offended his taste buds. “he bought a drink for Stiles right before this all happened. It can’t be a coincidence. He’s drugged him with something. We need to know what it is.” 

     Derek thinks quickly, before making a decision.

     “Um, okay. I’ll go confront him. You two need to stay here with Stiles, make sure he doesn’t hurt himself or take off.”

     “I can go if you want,” Peter offers.

     “No!” Derek says quickly. “His scent… it’s affecting me too much. I’m having trouble controlling myself, with how he keeps flinging himself at me. You seem to be affected less.”

     Peter nods in agreement.

     “Okay. I’ll be right back. Just… keep lying to him if you have to. But don’t underestimate him. The last thing we need is him running free in a hotel full of werewolves, smelling like sin incarnate _.” _

     Derek heads out the door and pulls it closed behind himself, but not before he hears Peter gasp in horror and exclaim,  _ “Why on earth are you naked?!”  _ before letting out a muffled  _ oomph. _

     Derek needs to move  _ fast. _


	8. I think I’d do Anything Anything for this Kid

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'Ello! Happy Game of Thrones Sunday for anyone who's tuning in tonight 😁 Here's two more chapters for y'all 😘 Also, wanted to give a shout-out to the folks that have been commenting! I LOVE hearing what you guys think of the story as it unfolds, and the comments are just great 😂

     Standing in the hallway, his head already feels more clear than it has in the last ten minutes. He takes the elevator down to the banquet hall, and tries to look casual as possible while he picks through the crowd, seeking out Deucalion. After several increasingly frantic minutes, he finally spots him on the outskirts, leaning against a pillar with a drink in hand.

     “Deucalion!” He almost shouts, storming up to the Alpha. Deucalion smirks in his direction.

     “Derek! Didn’t think I’d be hearing from you again tonight.”

     Derek grabs him roughly and snarls. There are people nearby who stop to look at them, and it makes Derek freeze. The last thing he needs is to be kicked out of the Symposium while a member in his pack needs him. While  _ Stiles  _ needs him. Deucalion seems to be thinking the same thing, and that stupid smirk never leaves his face. Derek huffs and lets go of him.

     “What did you do to Stiles?” He asks in a low voice.

     “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Deucalion drawls. Derek doesn’t have time for games, so he cuts right to the chase.

     “He’s licentious, can’t keep his hands to himself, far too strong for a human, and the  _ scent _ …” Derek can’t bring himself to say anything else about the scent.  He gets back on topic. “You did something, we all know you did.”

     “Oh  _ dear.”  _ Deucalion gasps dramatically, and it’s full of fake surprise. “Our drinks must have gotten mixed up. It would appear that the poor boy drank an undiluted dose of Aphrondaesium.”

     Derek feels his stomach drop upon hearing the name. 

_      “What?” _ He says it in a whisper, but it’s filled with equal parts dread and rage. Aphrondaesium is a highly potent elixir, originally designed to make a human be able to match the stamina of werewolf in bed. But it’s easy to overdose on, and what you get when you do that is… well, Stiles’ current state. “Aphrondaesium is illegal, Deucalion.”

     “Not illegal, just highly regulated. I have a personal stock that I like to use from time to time. It has no effect on werewolves, of course, but do I find I enjoy the taste.”

     “You did this on purpose,” Derek jabs Deucalion in the chest with his forefinger before turning to pace several steps, then turns back and walks right up in the other man’s personal space, growling in his face. “You son of a bitch!”

     “Surely you’re not going to accuse a  _ blind  _ man of purposely swapping drinks with a human teen to drug him?” Deucalion knows that Derek’s in a corner. “Besides, you should be thanking me. Your little cock-slut must be drooling to get his hands on you by now.”

     Derek is dangerously close to starting a pack feud - that’s if Deucalion even  _ has  _ a pack - but he can’t help the snarl that rips from his throat. People are definitely staring now.

     “Fuck you, Deucalion,” he snaps before storming off. He walks outside the hotel to clear his head. The cool nighttime air feels good as he drags large breaths in. Once he’s regained control of himself, he pulls out his phone and rings Deaton.

     “Derek,” he says cheerfully when he answers. “how can I help you?”

     It sounds so customer service, and it’s a stark contrast to the situation at hand. Deaton knows they’re at the Symposium, so he doesn’t need to explain any further than their predicament.

     “Deucalion overdosed Stiles on Aphrondaesium. I need a reversal spell, cure, herbal remedy,  _ anything.  _ He’s strong, and he’s not in his right mind.” Derek’s voice sounds strained, and Deaton can probably measure the severeness of the situation by his tone alone.

     “There’s a group of druids attending the Symposium. Tell them exactly what you told me, and they should be able to help you. Derek…” Deaton pauses. “The best they’ll be able to do is restore his clarity of mind. As for the other side effects… he’s going to need to ride them out.”

     Derek grits his teeth and closes his eyes, desperately trying to manage his frustration. He had a feeling that was going to be the answer, but there was a tiny flame of hope that the effects could be reversed completely. That hope is now nothing more than a curling wisp of smoke.

     “Thank you, Deaton.”

     He hangs up and heads back in. It doesn’t take him long to find the druids. He only has to ask a handful of people before he’s standing in front of their small group, explaining his plight to them. Neither of them seem particularly surprised that Deucalion would pull such a stunt, but they're sympathetic all the same.

     A young druid named Alaric says he can help, and leads Derek to the fourth floor where he’s staying. While they’re in the elevator, his phone pings. It’s Peter.

**_You need to hurry_ **

**Working on it. Getting an antidote now.**

**_Work faster. He’s being completely unruly._ **

**_There’s touching happening, and he’s strong._ **

**_Please Derek._ **

**Give me five more minutes.**

**_H E L P_ **

     They enter Alaric’s room, and the druid quickly gets to work, digging through various vials and containers, adding different ingredients to a mortar before grinding them together with a pestle.

     “Deaton’s an old friend of my dad’s,” He says conversationally while he works. “He’s a good man. Pain in the ass sometimes with his vague nudges in the right direction, but a good man nonetheless.”

     Derek grunts in agreement, but says nothing.

     “So this is your boyfriend he drugged?”

     Derek shifts uncomfortably, but tells the truth.

     “Not… exactly. We may have stretched the truth there. He insisted on attending, and I wanted him safe. So I claimed him as my mate.”

     “I see,” Alaric says slowly. He stares at his work intently for a few more seconds, and then turns to face Derek. “Even with the antidote to clear his head, he’s going to be very uncomfortable for the next twelve hours or so… intimacy can alleviate that.”

     “I’m not going to take advantage of him,” Derek growls.

     “No! I wasn’t insinuating that!” Alaric is quick to quell his anger. “But this antidote  _ will  _ give him the ability to fully consent. He won’t be agreeing to anything in a hazed state. It’s just something the two of you might want to discuss.”

     They don’t talk again after that, and Alaric is done shortly after. He grabs a small half-bottle of water from his mini fridge, and adds the thick mixture to it before screwing the cap back on and giving it a shake.

     “Have him drink the whole thing. It should start to work immediately, and only take a minute or two to fully kick in. It will also take the edge off for a bit. Long enough for you guys to decide what you want to do.” He hands Derek the bottle. “Good luck.”

     “Thank you.” Derek says it as sincerely as he can. Then he’s running down the hallway and mashing the elevator button, willing the doors to open. Once he’s on the sixth floor he runs down that hallway too, garnering curious looks from people milling about. He pays them no mind, focused solely on getting to Stiles.


	9. It Kind of Scares the Shit out of Me

     He gets into the room, and closes the door behind him. His nostrils are promptly assaulted with that sweet and salty scent, and there’s also a heavy blanket of arousal in the air that wasn’t present before, three different distinct sets.

     “In here,” comes Peter's strained voice from the bedroom. He can also hear Stiles moaning loudly. Derek walks in and pales at the sight.

     Stiles is lying on the bed, presumably naked, but the sheets are covering him from the waist down. Peter is straddling his thighs, and he’s shirtless, but at least his pants are still on. He’s holding Stiles down by his wrists, pinning them on either side of his head. Chris is kneeling on the far side of Stiles, also shirtless, and he has two fingers shoved into Stiles mouth, who’s sucking on them in earnest and moaning like it’s the best thing in the world. He’s making aborted thrusts with his hips, but Peter seems to be doing a good job at keeping him still. The three of them are covered in a sheen of sweat and look completely debauched.

     “It’s the only way we’ve been able to quiet him,” Chris explains, before Derek can ask. He sounds out of breath. “Empty promises only last so long, and he nearly overpowered both of us. You think  _ we  _ ripped our shirts off?”

     “It’s the best thing we could think of without crossing too many lines,” Peter says sheepishly. “The boy has an absolutely filthy mouth, and combined with that scent… we needed him to stop talking.”

     Stiles moves his head to the side and  pulls off of Chris’ fingers with a loud  _ pop,  _ then lifts his head to grin at Derek.

     “You’re back! Can we all fuck now?”

     An embarrassing, strangled whine bubbles in the back of Derek’s throat.  _ It’s just the scent, the scent is getting to me,  _ he mentally tells himself even though he knows it’s a damn lie. If this evening has proven one thing, it’s that Derek wants Stiles. But like this? The fury he feels towards Deucalion rekindles.

     “Yeah, we can do whatever you want,” Derek says softly, walking up to the bed and sitting down next to him. “But first, I need you to drink this for me. Can you do that?”

     “Anything for my Alpha,” Stiles says, smiling lazily. Derek swallows thickly, and tries not to show how much those words affect him. Peter lets go of Stiles hesitantly, but Stiles is focused on the drink, and doesn’t attack them, so Peter also moves off of his thighs and settles next to Chris. Stiles sits up, and the sheet pools over his waist, showcasing an obvious tent that Derek resolutely does  _ not  _ look at.

     Stiles is making grabby-hands for the bottle, eager to prove his willingness. Derek unscrews the cap and hands it over. Stiles takes one gulp and makes a face.

     “This tastes like shit.” He frowns at the bottle like it’s personally offended him. “I don’t want to drink it.” Then he looks Derek up and down with a predatory look. “I can think of something else to put in my mouth that would taste  _ so  _ much better.”

     For what feels like the fifth time this week, Derek finds himself looking upwards and imploring any diety that will listen to him for willpower. He looks back down at Stiles and gives him a tight smile.

     “After you drink this, okay? You can do whatever you want to me after you finish your drink.”

     “And Peter. And Chris,” he demands, hesitating with bottle at his lips. Peter groans and rests his forehead on Chris’ shoulder. Chris doesn’t look any better.

     “Finish the damn drink, Stiles,” Chris rasps in a husky voice. The three of them can only be teased so much, and they’re all hanging on by threads. Derek idly wonders how much Chris is affected by the scent.

     Satisfied, Stiles plugs his nose and gulps the remaining liquid down, making a face as an involuntary shiver travels down his body.

     “Blech,” He says, loudly smacking his mouth open and closed. Then he turns to Derek. “Okay Big Bad, where’s my chaser?”

     He’s running his hand up Derek’s thigh, but the movement starts to stutter and he stills. He looks a little confused and he blinks hard a few times, giving his head a small shake.

     “I mean… um...” he’s staring intently at his hand, a scowl on his face as his perception is slowly restored. Derek can see the moment when he tips over the edge to clarity, and horror blooms across his face. If he wasn’t already flushed, he would be now.

     “Oh my god,” he gasps, hands flying to his mouth, and he whips his head back and forth from Derek, sitting on his right, to Chris and Peter, sitting on his left. The three men all give him sympathetic smiles.

     “I- I wanted to- I was  _ going  _ to-  _ what the actual fuck?!”  _ His voice goes up an octave towards the end, and the last word comes out as a squeak. He digs his hands into his hair and groans.

     “Stiles, it’s not your fault. Deucalion drugged you.” Derek sees no point in beating around the bush.

     “He  _ what?!”  _ Stiles yelps, head snapping up to look at Derek in disbelief.

     Derek places a hand on his shoulder, and Stiles lets out a  _ nngh _ noise before shaking him off frantically.

     “Don’t touch me!” He yells, scrambling backwards. He drags what he can of the sheet with him so he remains covered. All three men lean away from him. He looks at them sheepishly. “I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just, touch is like, a really good thing right now.  _ Too  _ good. And my traitorous dick has been at full attention for so long that I’m in danger of making even more of an embarrassment of myself.”

     He chews his bottom lip and stares off to the side, unable to look any of them in the eye.

     “So that drink, will it fix-” He gestures towards his groin- “because I can be done with this, like, yesterday.”

     “Um,” is all Derek can bring himself to say. He looks at Peter and Chris. “You two can go now. I have it from here.”

     “Are you sure?” Peter asks with a frown. Derek nods, and Peter lets out a relieved sigh.

     “Good. Because Chris and I have some pressing business to attend to, thanks to that mouth.” It’s a jibe, but a gentle one. Testing the waters, Derek thinks. It’s Peter’s own way of asking Stiles if he really is okay.

     Stiles chuckles weakly.

     “Glad to be of service,” he jokes, winking at Chris. Derek is glad to see that he he isn’t so mortified that he can’t still give as good as he gets, and Peter takes it as confirmation that he really is going to be okay.

     “Come on,” Peter growls, standing and grabbing Chris by the waist of his pants to drag him through the bedroom door, into the living room, and then into their own room. The door slams behind them.

     There’s a few seconds of awkward silence, then Stiles looks at Derek with determination.

     “Lay it on me straight.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am truly sorry for that cliffhanger 😅 But I PROMISE that the next chapters will more than make up for it 😘


	10. I Think I Might be Falling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who's ready for the meat n' potatoes? 😏

     Derek takes a deep breath.

     “Deucalion managed to spike your drink with something called Aphrondaesium. In small, diluted doses, it’s used by humans so they can match their Were mates, um… libido.” Stiles’ blush, which had been fading, comes back in full force. Derek can feel his own face heating up. He pushes through. “Anyways, Deucalion must have given you a whole damn vial of the stuff. When that happens the person becomes addled and… crazed about certain, um, things.”

     “You don’t need to sugarcoat it, Derek. I wanted to fuck all three of you.” Stiles shrugs his shoulders, like it can’t be helped. “But the strength… that was new.”

     “A normal dose would have only made you slightly more resilient, so that’s also a side effect of taking too much.”

     “But it's all over now, right?” Stiles asks hopefully. Derek looks at him, and feels like he’s about to tell a child that Santa doesn’t exist.

     “The antidote I gave you will keep your mind clear. You won’t go into a haze again. But… there’s nothing that can be done for the other side effects. You’ll have to ride it out. The druid who made it for me said it should run its course in twelve hours or so.”

     “Great,” Stiles says. “So what, I’m just going to be a super strong horndog until tomorrow? Just lovely.” He starting to squirm, and Derek’s nose picks up on the scent getting thicker again. Looks like their window is closing fast.

     “I, uh,” He licks his lips, trying to get the words out. Stiles looks at him expectantly. “Alaric, the druid, said that having someone be with you can help lessen the discomfort.”

     “Cool. So we can still chill together. It’ll be like any other day at the loft. Just don’t mind my raging boner.” Stiles tries to brush it off, but his words sound hollow. And he’s also not understanding. To be fair, Derek isn’t doing a great job at explaining either.

     “No, I mean like  _ with  _ you.”

     A look of surprise flits across Stiles’ face as understanding dawns on him.

     “O-oh,” he manages. “Well, that could work too, but I don’t know anyone here other than you, Chris and Peter. Casual hookups with people I know isn’t really been my style, and I’m  _ not  _ about to jump into bed with the two of them.”

     Derek chews the inside of his cheek and looks down at his hands.

     “Yeah, casual hookups have never really been my thing either.” He says, steeling himself before he looks back up. Stiles’ eyes are almost completely black, barely any iris showing. “So I’m thinking if we do this, neither of us would be able to keep it casual.”

     Stiles takes a sharp breath, and it hitches in his throat.

     “Are you offering…?”

     “Yeah, Stiles. Let me help you. There can be no strings attached tonight, but if you want to continue whatever it is we start, I won’t say no. I’d never say no to you.”

     And there it is. His heart, laid open and bare. Acknowledging something he thought he’d never voice, something he was afraid to expect too closely even within his own mind.

_      “Yes,”  _ Stiles says breathlessly.

     “Yes?” Derek echos, hope written all over his face.

     “Yes, you doofus,” Stiles says with a face-splitting grin, and then he lunges, twisting to pin Derek to the bed and straddles him. “Yes, yes, oh my  _ god,  _ yes!” He punctuates his words with pecks; on Derek’s mouth, and nose, and chin. “Derek, I’ve wanted you since like, junior year. I just never thought I had a chance. I wasn’t even sure that you  _ liked _ men.”

     Derek chuckles.

     “Some men,” He says with a growing smirk.

     Stiles locks their lips together, and Derek lets himself really  _ enjoy  _ it this time. It’s not for show, or because he’s drugged up to his eyeballs. It’s because he  _ wants  _ to kiss Derek. He runs his hands up Stiles’ bare thighs, over his hips, and right to his ass, grabbing it firmly. Stiles moans, and Derek slides his tongue into the warm heat of his mouth, getting drunk on his taste. It’s still overpowering, the effects of the Aphrondaesium, and Derek needs to remember to stay in control of himself.

     He sits up and pulls his mouth away to catch his breath, pressing their foreheads together. 

     “Stiles… the scent you’re putting off because of the drug, it’s doing some pretty crazy things to my control,” he admits. “You need to tell me if I’m doing something you don’t like, or if I’m being too rough with you. I don’t want to hurt you.”

     “You said that this aphrodeesa-whatever is used to match a Were’s libido, right? And I feel stronger than a fucking bear right now. I say you give it to me a little rough, and we can test the limits.”

     With that, he tangles a hand in Derek’s hair and yanks, pulling his head back hunching over to and lick a long stripe up his neck. Derek groans, ideas of how they can spend the night already running through his mind. Stiles drags his tongue over his jaw and kisses him again. This time it’s more frantic, more fevered.

     “So, uh-” he says between kisses. “I’ve been- hard for about- fifteen minutes now- so I’m gonna need some immediate loving- before we test the- endurance aspect.”

     Derek knows how he wants to deal with that. He wraps an arm around Stiles and flips them so he’s on top, then starts kissing down Stiles’ torso, running his hands up and down his sides as he goes. Stiles is making all sorts of sinful noises, and he tangles the fingers of his other hand into Derek’s hair too, spreading his legs wide to give Derek better access.

     Derek doesn’t waste any time teasing him; his dick looks painfully hard, and there’s precome leaking from the tip. He pops the head in his mouth and sucks down as far as he can, then grabs the base with his hand. Stiles  lets out a strangled cry and bucks up. Derek has to apply quite a bit of pressure to his hip with his free hand to still him.

     He makes short work of taking Stiles apart. This isn’t his first blowjob, and he’d like to think he’s fairly decent at them. But Stiles has also been on the edge for so long that Derek can’t really take credit for this one. Maybe the next one. Stiles untangles one hand and taps on his head.

     “Gonna come,” He grits, giving Derek a choice. Derek replies by opening his throat and sinking down until his nose is touching Stiles’ pelvis. Stiles yells out a hoarse  _ “Derek!”  _ and comes down his throat. Derek swallows it, holding his position for another few seconds before pulling up slowly, sucking his dick and licking it clean along the way.

     Stiles is panting heavily. He tugs on Derek’s hair, silently urging him back up his body.

     “Wanna taste myself on you,” He slurs, still riding the high of his orgasm. Derek gladly obliges, sliding up and plunging his tongue into Stiles’ mouth. Stiles sucks on it greedily, moaning around his mouthful before pulling back to rub their noses together.

     “You should always taste like me,” Stiles whispers against his lips. Derek whines a little at the declaration. They share another languid kiss, gently exploring each other now that the edge has been taken off.

     Maybe this whole ordeal isn’t the worst thing after all.


	11. It Feels More like Soaring

     “You’re wearing too many clothes,” Stiles says, pawing at his shirt. Derek lifts up and lets Stiles pull the shirt up and over his head, taking it off in one fluid movement. Then he’s sitting up, and Derek leans back on his heels, bracketed by Stiles’ legs. His hands are all over Derek’s stomach and chest.

     “Do you know how many times I thought about touching you?” Stiles asks, drawing lazy circles around each of his defined muscles with his forefinger. An involuntary shiver travels the length of Derek’s spine at the tender caress. “I’ve thought about what it would be like to cover you in oil and let my hands glide over every muscle, every dip of every plane on your body.”

_      “Stiles,”  _ Derek gasps, and damn, how can simple words set him on edge like that? Peter was right. His mouth is downright  _ sinful.  _

     Stiles moves his legs, pulling them from resting on either side of Derek to fold them underneath himself, so he’s mirroring Derek’s position. Then he dips his fingers below the waistband of his jeans and tugs him forward, until Derek is kneeling instead of sitting back on his heels.

     Stiles leans forward to pepper his collarbone and chest with little nips and kisses while his deft fingers undo the belt and pull it slowly through the loops. When its free, he tosses it somewhere off the bed without looking and starts undoing his jeans, all the while laying worship on Derek’s body with his mouth.

     When his pants are unbuttoned and unzipped, Stiles moves to crawl off the bed, dragging his hand along Derek’s chest and over his shoulders. Derek turns, chasing the touch. He sits at the edge of the bed and grabs Stiles’ hips, pulling him forward. Stiles leans down and kisses him, sucking Derek’s bottom lip into his mouth and giving it a playful love bite.

     Then he’s kneeling and pulling at Derek's jeans. Derek holds onto his shoulders, and lifts his hips so Stiles can pull both his pants and briefs down. His cock springs free, and Stiles inhales sharply at the sight.

     “Damn. I’ve never thought of another guy’s dick as beautiful before, but… wow.” He doesn’t touch it though, just continues tending to Derek by removing his shoes, then his socks, then pulling his pants and briefs the rest of the way off. 

     Stiles runs his hands up Derek’s calves, over his knees, and to his inner thigh, before kneading his fingers into the muscle. Derek squirms a bit.

     “Ticklish?” Stiles asks, looking up with a wicked smirk.

     “Tickle me later,” Derek says in a strained voice. “I’m about ten seconds from nutting on your face from touch alone.”

     It gets the reaction he wanted, and Stiles throws his head back, showcasing that gorgeous expanse of neck while he lets loose a throaty laugh. He takes Derek’s cock in hand and strokes it a few times. Derek has to put his hands behind himself and rest his weight on them so he doesn’t collapse. He lets his head fall back and moans shamelessly at the contact.

     Then he’s being enveloped in slick heat as Stiles swallows him down to the hilt before pulling off again. A mangled cry of pleasure is torn from him. Stiles works his hand up and down again, and it’s much easier now that he has some slickness to work with.

     “You taste like me, and I want to taste like you too. Wanna  _ taste  _ you,” He says before attacking Derek’s cock again. His pace is fast, and he’s doing  _ something  _ with his tongue that should probably be illegal. Derek looks down at him and curls a fist in his hair, not forcing his movements, but rather following them. He looks up and catches sight of their reflection from the mirror hanging on the back of the bathroom door, directly behind them.

     He sees the muscles in Stiles’ back flex and ripple each time he bobs his head up and down. His hips are rocking back and forth in little aborted movements, and Derek’s face… he looks completely wrecked. There’s a blush high on his cheeks, he has a light sheen of sweat that covers his body, and his mouth is dangling open. There’s the slightest hint of fang.

     The sight of the two of them is enough to push him over the edge alone, but Stiles’ mouth has that job well handled. He drops onto his back and thrusts up into Stiles’ mouth, coming with a grunt. Stiles latches on to his cock, sucking deeply, milking him through the waves of pleasure that make his whole body shudder.

     He lays there, chest heaving, waiting to come down from the high of release. Stiles gets up and lays down next to him, tilting Derek’s head so he can kiss him. Derek can taste himself on Stiles’ tongue, and it’s heady. He rolls to his side and pulls Stiles flush against his body while they trade lazy kisses. It’s an awkward position with their legs dangling off the end of the bed, but they’re both too fucked-out at the moment to care.

     Stiles breaks away from the kiss to tuck his head underneath Derek’s chin, and he holds him close. They lay like that for a minute, an easy silence between the two of them. Then Stiles groans and rolls onto his back, dragging his hands down his face.

     “Oh  _ man,”  _ he mumbles into his hands.

     “What is it?” Derek asks, afraid that he’ll admit that this was a huge mistake.

     What he absolutely does  _ not  _ expect is, “I asked Peter to  _ knot  _ me.”

     “You  _ what?”  _ Derek asks incredulously. Stiles parts two of his fingers to look at Derek through the crack. They stare at each other for a second, then burst into laughter at the same time. 

     “What on earth have you been  _ reading?” _ Derek asks, wiping away tears that are springing up in the corners of his eyes from the laughter.

     “I know, I know! I fell down a research rabbit hole, years ago!” Stiles exclaims. “Scott swears that it was fake, because he doesn’t have one, but a part of me always wondered if it was a born wolf trait.” He bites his bottom lip and looks at Derek expectantly.

     “Sorry to burst your bubble, but we don’t live in a trashy romance novel,” Derek says. “No knots here.”

     Stiles actually pouts.

     “That’s kind of a shame, because it sounds like it would feel  _ amazing.”  _ He shifts around and looks down at his body. “You have  _ got  _ to be kidding me!” He exclaims, glaring at his steadily swelling dick with something akin to horror. “I literally  _ just  _ came like two minutes ago.” 

     “Welcome to my life,” Derek jibes.

     “Really?” Stiles asks, turning to his side and propping himself up onto his elbow. Derek knows that’s his ‘I’m about to geek out on new knowledge’ tone. The kid never tires of learning new things. Derek likes that about him. “Tell me more about your refractory period.” He adds a waggle of his eyebrows.

     “I don’t need to tell you, you’re going to get the full experience tonight,” Derek replies with a grin. “But I’ve definitely got another few good fucks in me. Has to do with our metabolism and healing rate.” He says it like it’s no big deal, because honestly, it isn’t. He’s lived like this his entire life, and doesn’t know any other way.

     “Do you want to take a bath?” Stiles asks suddenly. “I think a bath would be nice.”

     “Um, yeah. Sure,” Derek agrees. Stiles grins widely and leans over, brushing their lips together lightly. Derek pushes closer, sticking his nose in the crook of Stiles’ neck and inhaling his scent deeply.

     He thinks he might be getting used to the pheromones he’s been cranking out, because he’s smelling less like that and more like his own, natural musk. Cinnamon, honey, and California woods.  _ Home. _


	12. Maybe I’ve Always Felt this Way

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello peeps 🙂 You thought that the last two chapters were steamy? Let's go above and beyond 😜 Also, I'm heading out after posting these two chapters to see Avengers: Endgame! I'm so frickin' pumped 😁 Hope all y'all have decent nights as well!

     Stiles stands and stretches his arms high above his head.

     “Give me ten minutes to draw it up. Maybe order some room service? I’m ravenous.” 

     Derek nods, and they leave each other to their tasks. It doesn’t take Derek long to ring the kitchen and place a large order of sandwiches, chopped fruit, and several bottles of water. They say it will be twenty to thirty minutes, so he tells them that they can let themselves in leave it in the living room area. After he hangs up, he realizes that there’s one necessity they don’t have, and can’t order.

     He pulls on the pair of Stiles’ gym shorts that he’d worn earlier and walks through the living room to the connecting door, opening his side and rapping on their door twice with his knuckle. He can hear something heavy fall, and then two sets of giggling before Peter is opening the door and peeking around it. He has fading bite marks on his neck and his hair is a mess.

     “Yes, dear nephew?” He asks with a stupid grin on his face. “Did you need us to show you how it’s done?”

     So they’ve correctly guessed how Derek and Stiles are handling the situation, then. He can hear Chris laughing further in their room, and rolls his eyes.

_      “No,  _ but thanks for the offer,” He says sarcastically. Then he clears his throat and fights through the embarrassment of his next words. “We uh… we don’t have any lube,” He says, and he can feel the tips of his ears pinkening.

_      “Oh,  _ I see.” Peter says, eyes dancing with mirth. He turns around and yells, “Christopher! Stiles and Derek need to borrow some lube!” If Derek hadn’t already been blushing, then congratulations because he certainly is now.

     Peter’s head disappears, and Chris’ replaces it. He hands Derek a small bottle of unopened lube with a wink. Derek gives him a tight smile, thanks him, and closes his door. He  _ thinks  _ he won’t die of embarrassment. Probably.

     He heads back into the bedroom, closing the door on the way so they don’t end up giving the hotel employee delivering their food a free show. He lays down on the bed, content to rest until Stiles calls him in. He still can’t believe how the night has turned out. It could have been a total nightmare. He needs to thank Alaric with more than just words, he thinks. Do something really nice for the man, to show his sincerest appreciation.

     He closes his eyes and must drift for a bit, because in no time Stiles is standing next to him, rubbing his arm gently. Derek opens his eyes and looks up at him with a soft smile. Stiles looks pointedly at the lube on the nightstand, then looks back at him with a raised brow.

     “Peter and Chris,” He explains, and Stiles says  _ ah,  _ before grabbing the bottle and turning to walk back into the bathroom. He looks over his shoulder at Derek.

     “As much as I love seeing you in my clothes, you can’t wear those into the tub.” Then he turns the corner and disappears. Derek nearly trips in his haste to remove the shorts and follow him. He finds Stiles submersed to his shoulders in milky white water that smells lightly of spearmint and lemongrass. It’s just enough for his lupine senses without being overpowering, and the scent invigorates him. The bathtub itself is huge, and can easily fit the two of them.

     Stiles scoots forward and gestures behind himself. Derek climbs in behind him, resting a leg on either side of Stiles’ hips. When he’s settled, Stiles backs up and leans against his chest. Derek wraps his arms around his shoulders and holds him close, nestling his nose in Stiles’ hair and enjoying the smells of contentment that spirals off of him.

     They lounge in the bath for a solid five minutes, not saying anything, just enjoying each other’s company. Stiles tilts his head, and Derek rubs his nose and cheek against the sensitive skin, scenting him. He opens his mouth and gently clamps over his pulse point. Stiles lets out a shaky breath and goes boneless in Derek’s arms. It pleases his wolf immensely.

     Derek reaches around Stiles and grasps his dick, sliding his hand up and down his shaft, no rush to the movement. Stiles moans and arches his back, letting his head press further back against Derek’s shoulder.

_      “Mmm,”  _ he hums. “God Derek, love the way your skin feels on mine. Like we were meant to always be touching.” He gets up and turns, so he’s straddling Derek’s thighs, and slings his arms over Derek’s shoulders, pressing their bodies together. Their erections are trapped between them, rubbing against each other. Derek snakes his hands between the two of them, and Stiles pulls his hips back a bit to give him access. It’s a handful, but he can just about wrap his hand around both of them, and he continues his earlier ministrations.

     Stiles drops his forehead against Derek’s with a whimper. Derek isn’t doing much better though, making little broken, needy noises.

     “Want you in me,” Stiles breathes. “Want you to fuck me until you pump me full. want your scent to cling to me for days, so everyone knows I’m yours, Der.”

     Derek lets out a low growl and lets go of their cocks, opting instead to wrap his arms around Stiles and pull him as close as possible, closing his eyes as they smash their lips together in a haze of passion and lust.

     He can feel Stiles reaching behind him, grabbing the bottle of lube and opening it with a loud click. Then he pulls away, and he’s still and quiet. Derek opens his eyes to see Stiles scrutinizing the back of the bottle before his eyes light up.

     “Silicon-based! Good. That’s the stuff you want for water sex.” 

     Derek rolls his eyes fondly.

     “Of  _ course  _ you’d know that.”

     “Well, it’s something you make a point of knowing when you’ve had pool sex go south  _ real _ fast in the past,” he says with a chuckle. And that’s a story Derek wants to hear more about, but not now, because he’s too busy watching Stiles squirt a large glob onto his palm and spreading it before dipping his hand under the water and stroking Derek. He bites back a moan as his hips thrust up, fucking himself into Stiles’ grips. Stiles places the bottle back on the shelf behind them, leaning over Derek. Then he’s wrapping his arms back around Derek’s neck and positioning himself.

     “You’re not going to open yourself up first?” Derek asks in a husky voice.

     “Nah,” Stiles says, ghosting his lips over the shell of Derek’s ear. “I want to open myself up on your cock.” It takes all of Derek’s inner strength not to grab his hips and slam up into him. He settles for grasping Stiles’ thighs and digging his blunt fingers into the muscle.

     Stiles is going to ruin him for anyone else.


	13. I was just Afraid to Admit it

     Stiles lowers himself slowly, taking his time. Derek holds his breath when he feels the tip of his cock push against the tight ring of muscle. Stiles presses down a bit harder, and nothing happens at first, but then his body is opening slightly and the head pops in. Stiles stills, breathing heavily, and waits for his body to adjust. Derek is sure that he’s leaving bruises on his thighs, but it’s either that or fuck up into him, and he feels like this is the lesser evil at this point.

     Stiles continues to bear down, sometimes pulling up an inch before sliding down a bit further. Before long, he’s seated on Derek’s hips and Derek is buried to the hilt.

     “So full,” He gasps. “Love it, Der. Love having you in me.” He pulls his arms back so he can cup Derek’s face with both of his hands, and kisses him. This kiss is slower; still filled with passion, but a different kind. Derek pours all of his emotions into it, letting the movements of his lips and tongue say all the things he can’t bring himself to voice yet.

     When Stiles starts moving, it’s like a revelation. Nothing in the world matters but them right here, in this moment. It’s a little uncoordinated with the slipperiness of the tub, but it doesn’t take them long to find a rhythm. Then the pace picks up. They’re making a complete mess of the bathroom, with water sloshing over the side of the tub. Derek moves his hands from Stiles’ thighs to his ass, and lifts him up a bit so he can thrust up into him.

     Stiles stops his own movements, allowing Derek to take charge from the bottom. He’s digging his nails into Derek’s shoulders and gasping every time Derek buries himself deep within him.

     Stiles starts to babble. Strings of endearments, encouragement, praise, and straight-up filth spill from his lips. Derek loves every word of it.

     “So close, Der... Just like that...  _ Fuuuuck,”  _ his grip on Derek’s shoulders is borderline painful, but it’s in a way that only feeds into his pleasure. Stiles probably doesn’t even realize what he’s doing, too drunk on sex to understand his newfound, albeit short-term strength.

     When he comes with a moan, his hole clenches around Derek. Derek fucks him through his orgasm, his hips snapping up in an increasingly stuttered rhythm as he climbs towards his own release. Then he’s coming too, emptying himself into Stiles, and dropping his head back against the lip of the tub. Stiles rests his head on Derek’s shoulder, and they cling to each other, panting and breathless.

     “Now _ that  _ is how you properly dick someone,” Stiles slurs. Derek laughs, jostling Stiles when his chest heaves up and down. His softening cock slips out, and they both whine a little at the loss of contact. He kisses the top of Stiles’ head, and Stiles hums happily.

     The water level is down below their chests now, and they're both starting to get chilly. They take turns rinsing themselves in the shower before heading back to the bed. Stiles sits on the edge, stretching and letting loose a huge yawn. At the same time, his stomach growls.

     Derek opens bedroom door and sees that their food has been delivered. He pulls the cart into the room, and Stiles’ entire face lights up.

     “You should eat and rest while you can. We probably have an hour or two before the Aphrondaesium starts to kick back in.”

     “Keep walking around stark naked, and I won’t need any magic sex pollen to get it up,” Stiles says with a devilish wink. Derek snorts.

     “You seriously need to lay off the Internet, Stiles.  _ Sex pollen.”  _ He mutters the last part under his breath, shaking his head fondly.

     They sit next to each other on the edge of the bed, picking at the food and while they chat idly. Their shoulder and knee are constantly touching, and Derek takes comfort in the contact. This is nice.

     “I talked Chris and Peter into making out over me.” Stiles is laughing.

     “You’re an incorrigible terror,” Derek replies, but he has a big dumb grin on his face as he says it. 

     “You should have seen it. It was  _ so  _ hot. Secretly, I think they were kind of into it.”

_      “Stiles!”  _ Derek exclaims, sounding slightly scandalized. “You do realize that’s my  _ uncle _ you’re talking about.”

     “But just like, think of them objectively. They’re both  _ really  _ good kissers.”

     Derek growls and kicks the cart away, grabbing Stiles and playfully tackling him onto the bed. He straddles him and pins his arms above his head by their wrists. Stiles giggles.

     “Oh yeah?” Derek says, grinding their hips together. Stiles forgets giggling in lieu of gasping. “Why don’t you go into  _ their  _ room then?”

     Derek lets his eyes bleed red for show, and Stiles’ breath hitches.

_      “Fuuuuuck,”  _ is all he can manage, pupils blown wide. His sweet, thick scent of arousal hits Derek’s nostrils not long after. “I think I like this room better.” He tilts his head in a clear sign of submission for added effect.

     “Good boy,” Derek rumbles, leaning forward to press his nose and cheek against the pale expanse of skin, gently pulling on his throat with blunt teeth. He can feel the possessiveness of his wolf rising to the surface, and he gladly gives in. “No one touches you but me. No one kisses you but me. No one fucks you, marks you,  _ claims  _ you but me.”

     “Yes, Alpha!” Stiles cries out, writhing underneath Derek’s body. He grabs Derek by his hair and roughly pulls him up, crushing their lips together. So much for resting, because they’re both rock hard again, and Derek is defenseless against the noises that Stiles is making.

     Stiles sits up suddenly, and Derek has to wrap his arms around his neck to keep from toppling off. Stiles snakes his hands underneath Derek’s thighs and stands up with ease.

     “What are you doing?” Derek says with amusement. It’s strange being manhandled by Stiles. He’s certainly no longer thin and gangly; he’s filled out over the last year or so, but he’s still smaller in stature to Derek. Not to mention human.

     “Gonna take advantage of this temporary strength,” he says with a wicked grin.


	14. I’m not Afraid Anymore

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovelies ☺️ We're hitting the final countdown here! Tomorrow is the last update 😱 BUT! I have a few new fics in the works, and I *think* I'll be posting a fluffy little Sterek one-shot later tonight 😏 But in the meantime, here's some more smut with a healthy side of feels 😂

     He walks them over to the closest wall and presses Derek’s back against it, delivering a truly mind-blowing kiss on the way. Derek wraps his legs high around Stiles’ waist, and the teen has to crank his head back to be able to continue the kiss. Then he moves to his chin, peppering kisses along his jaw.

     “It might not be your thing, being an Alpha and all-” he stops so he can invade Derek’s mouth with his tongue before continuing- “but I would  _ really  _ like to fuck you against the wall.”

     Derek groans at the declaration. How could he ever say no to something like that?

     “Yes,” He growls. “God, Stiles,  _ yes.” _

     Stiles wraps one arm around Derek’s lower back, and reaches blindly for the lube with his free hand, which he put on the bedside table earlier. He makes a mess of things, knocking over the phone and sending the remote control flying under the bed before his fingers close around the bottle.

     “Tell me how you want it,” he says breathlessly against Derek’s neck, dragging his teeth along his collarbone.

     “Same as you.” Derek replies. “Spear me open, fuck me hard.” Stiles grips him tightly, and drops his forehead on Derek’s shoulder.

     “Oh man,” he pants. “You’re gonna be the death of me, Der.”

     “Then we’ll die together, because same.” It’s probably the most cheesy thing he’s ever said, but it’s true. He’s so far gone on Stiles, and it’s taken him completely by surprise.

     Stiles flips the cap open with his thumb and Derek can hear him squirting the liquid on his dick before snapping the cap back on and tossing the bottle on the bed. He can feel the movement as Stiles works his hand up and down his length, spreading the slickness.

     “Just gotta get you a little wet, babe,” he says hoarsely, and Derek can feel his fingers slip between the crevice of his ass, ghosting over his hole before circling it with a bit more pressure. He whimpers at the touch and rocks his hips forward, chasing the feeling.

     “Shh, just hold on. I got you,” Stiles says in a soothing voice, and damn, but that  _ does _ things to him.

     Derek is always the dominant one in bed. Ever since Kate, he’s found it difficult to let go of that power, needing to feel in control of the situation. And here Stiles is, breaking down all of those defenses he put up, in such a way that Derek doesn’t feel vulnerable in the slightest. In fact, he feels validated and safe. He doesn’t doubt for a second that Stiles would never do anything to hurt him, or make him do anything he didn’t want to.

     Stiles is lowering him a little, and Derek loosens his hold with his legs so he can slip down his torso. Stiles reaches underneath him to line himself up, and Derek feels the head of his dick rub back and forth over his hole, spreading slick around. Then he lets the head press against his opening, and brings his hand to rest on Derek’s hip.

     “Ready?” His voice is strains. It’s more from the sexual tension than the weight of Derek though.

     “Yeah, yeah. I’m ready.” Derek has never been so ready for anything in his life. He doesn’t tell Stiles that while he’s slept with a few men in the past, he’s never bottomed. He doesn’t want Stiles to worry about how he’s treating him, because he knows that Stiles would overthink things. Fuss over him, working to make his first time perfect. But Derek thinks that as long as it’s with Stiles, it’s already perfect.

     Stiles rocks his hips forward in small increments, working the head in, following the pace that his tight ring of muscle sets. Derek realizes he’s holding his breath, and lets it out in a shuddering exhale, forcing himself to relax. His body follows his lead, and he relaxes enough for the head to pop in. It feels foreign, uncomfortable, and the stretch is just this side of painful. It also feels amazing and new and he wants - no,  _ needs  _ \- more.

     He tilts his hips in a way that allow him to sink another inch down, and they both whine at the sensation. Stiles slowly feeds him more of his dick, lowering him inch by inch. Derek’s healing is taking the sting of the stretch almost as fast as it happens, and a small part of himself laments in the fact that he can’t feel the delicious bite of pain for longer.

     Finally, he’s flush against Stiles’ hips, can’t sink down any further. He feels like the breath has been punched out of him. They’re shaking, both from the exertion of being upright and in anticipation.

     “Feel so good, Der,” Stiles murmurs, letting go of Derek’s hip in favor of cupping his face and rubbing his thumb back and forth over stubble. He has a look of wonder on his face, like he can’t quite believe he’s standing here, balls-deep in Derek. Derek turns his head to kiss Stiles’ palm.

     It’s intimate, and Derek feels his heart constrict with the amount of love he feels for this kid. No, not a kid. This  _ man.  _ Because that’s what Stiles is, what he  _ has _ been for a few years now. He’s wise beyond his age, seen and experienced awful, unimaginable things, but still manages to keep his head above the rising pressure to give up, or give in. Derek is floored by the rush of emotion he’s feeling, and a tear escapes the corner of his eye, rolling down his cheek.

     “What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?” Stiles worries, eyebrows knitting together as concern washes over his features.

     “No!” Derek says quickly. “No, it’s not that. I just… I’m just so damn  _ happy  _ right now Stiles, here with you.” He gives him a watery smile. He’s totally ruining the mood. Why does he have an earth-shattering revelation when he’s got a dick up his ass? 

     “I think I love you.”


	15. I Love this Man More than Life Itself

     “I think I love you.”

     He blurts it without thinking, his mouth seemingly moving of its own accord. Stiles freezes and blinks a few times, complete surprise written all over his face.  _ Fuck fuck fuck!  _ Derek’s a dumbass. He’s a stupid, bumbling idiot and he’s ruined what little he had with Stiles.

     “I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have said that!” And the look on Stiles’ face now is worse than the one before. He looks pained and heartbroken.

     “Did you mean it?” Stiles says roughly, voice thick with emotion. He looks guarded, and pulls away a bit, his dick slipping out a few inches. It kills Derek. Why did he have to open his mouth?

     “Yes,” He answers honestly, because it’s already out there. He already dug his hole, might as well bury himself too. “But it’s okay if you don’t feel the same. This doesn’t have to be-” his words are cut off when Stiles bucks up into him and slots their lips together at the same time. He swallows down Derek’s moans, licking them from his mouth. He pulls his hips back again before slamming home, starting a quick rhythm.

     “Der, I love you too. I  _ love  _ you. Have for a while now-” he stops to groan at the sensation of skin sliding against skin- “Always you Der.  _ Always  _ you.”

     Derek whimpers, overwhelmed with everything. It’s too much and not enough all at once. Stiles stills, resting his forehead against Derek’s chest, heaving in deep breaths. 

     “I can’t do it this way, Der. I don’t want to fuck you. Right now, I need to  _ make love  _ to you.”

     He settles Derek down on his dick and carries him over to the bed, depositing him on his back. They shuffle up it together, unwilling to part for even a second. When his head hits pillows, Stiles grabs one and lifts Derek by his lower back, stuffing it underneath his butt. And that’s… wow. A whole new angle, and it’s his favorite one yet.

     Stiles leans forward, boxing Derek in by placing his elbows on either side of his head. Then he starts  _ moving _ , and this is different than before. He rolls his hips up with each thrust, before pulling back and repeating the movement. It’s slow and languid and drives Derek crazy. He wraps his arms around Stiles’ back, hugging him close and digging nails into the soft flesh.

     Derek tucks his face into the crook of Stiles’ neck, and Stiles mirrors the action, nuzzling his neck and sucking a hickey onto his skin. Derek regrets his regenerative qualities in this moment, wishing he could wear Stiles’ marks for days. He leaves one of his own though, reveling in the fact that at least Stiles will bear marks of their passion.

     They’re both getting close, and Stiles sits back onto his heels, thrusting with more force. He wraps a hand around Derek’s leaking cock and slides his hand over the tip, smearing precome across his hand to ease the strokes he delivers. Derek is a panting mess, grunting in pleasure every time Stiles buries himself. He can feels his stomach clenching, the tension coiling itself tighter and tighter, until finally it breaks and he comes with a shuddering groan, spilling over his stomach and Stiles’ hand. His hole seizes around Stiles’ dick. Stiles gasps, chasing the feeling and fucking into Derek with abandon.

     Derek’s still riding the tail end of his own orgasm when Stiles stills with a broken moan. Derek can feel his dick twitch within him, marking his insides with his scent.

     Stiles collapses over him, back onto his elbows as not to crush him with his weight, and kisses him softly.  _ Lovingly.  _ He can feel the smile that blooms on Stiles’ lips.

     “I love you, Derek Hale,” he murmurs against Derek’s lips, brushing his own back and forth. Derek breaks out into a broad grin too.

     “And I love you, Mieczysław Stilinski.”

     Stiles squawks and flails, falling out of Derek and off of the bed with a loud thud. Then he’s popping back up like a prairie dog, looking completely debauched and startled at the same time. Derek lets out a carefree laugh at the sight.

     “Who told you?!” He exclaims.

     “Um, public records,” Derek says matter-of-factly. “Yes, I’ve known since we met, and no, I haven’t told anyone.”

     Stiles eyes him suspiciously with narrowed eyes.

     “You’re either a saint or the devil, I haven’t decided yet.”

     Derek chuckles.

     “Well, what we just did  _ was  _ rather sinful.” He gives his best wolfish grin, and Stiles drops the act, giggling and shaking his head.

     “You know my name, so you get to keep your firstborn,” Stiles teases, climbing back up onto the bed and laying down on his side to face Derek. Derek turns to face him as well, and cups his cheek.

     “I’d just as soon keep you,” He says, leaning in for a kiss. Stiles hums against his lips, before pulling away with a face.

     “We have cum smeared on our stomachs, and it’s getting sticky. Let’s take a quick shower. I don’t want to have to interrupt quality snuggles.”

     “But you smell so much like  _ mine,  _ and I love it.” Derek lets the last part rumble from deep within his chest.

     “Well when you put it like that, how can I say no?” Stiles replies, and tucks himself in close to Derek, despite the mess they’ve made on the bed and themselves. They tangle their legs together, and interlock their hands between their chests. They end up dozing for a while, both exhausted from their lovemaking.

     When Derek wakes up a few hours later, it’s to the sound of the shower running. He silently slides in behind Stiles.

     Derek can’t decide if he likes bathtub sex or shower sex more.


	16. If there’s One Thing I Know

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys. It's finally here 👀 I had such a blast writing this, posting it, and reading each and every comment. I love love LOVE seeing the reactions of readers as they go. What a wild ride this was, huh? I have some more fics planned for Sterek Bingo, and I can't wait to share them. You guys are my driving force ❤️💕 Thank you so much for taking this journey with me. Until next time! As for now, enjoy 😘

     They finally drag themselves out of bed around noon. The effects of the Aphrondaesium wore off around 6am,  _ much _ earlier than they’d anticipated, and they were both in desperate need of rest after last night’s marathon. Derek wakes up before Stiles, and quietly gets up to brush his teeth and use the bathroom. When he comes out, Stiles is stretching in the afternoon sun. The sight would make his mouth water if he wasn’t completely fucked-out. He may be a werewolf, but they went  _ hard  _ last night.

     Stiles gets out of bed, still naked, and crosses the room to Derek. He can’t help the way his gaze rakes over the other man’s body; he’s littered in faded bruises, lovebites, and scratches. When the Aphrondaesium wore off, so did the small healing boost Stiles received. What’s left is a dwindling canvas that paints a picture of their night before, and Derek wishes once again that his own body could capture a lasting visual as well.

     Stiles pulls him out of his thoughts, cuddling up to him and giving him a sleepy kiss.

     “Mornin’,” He mumbles, smiling at Derek with hooded eyes.

     “Morning,” Derek replies. “I love seeing all of my marks on you.” He places his fingers over a yellowing bruise on Stiles’ hip in the shape of his hand. “I wasn’t too rough, was I?”

     Stiles chuckles.

     “Not at all. It was  _ perfect,  _ Der.  _ You  _ are perfect. I love these marks just as much as you do.”

     A rumble of approval sounds deep in Derek’s chest, and Stiles giggles, hugging him closer and tilting his head back, giving Derek access to nuzzle, nip, and scent him. He does so gladly.

     “Get dressed. We can grab lunch with Chris and Peter, if they haven’t eaten yet.”

     Stiles goes into the bathroom, and Derek grabs his phone to text Peter:

**Lunch in ten?**

**_Sounds good._ **

**Okay. The door is unlocked. Just come in when you two are ready.**

     Derek tosses his phone on the bed and digs through his suitcase, grabbing fresh jeans and a Henley. When he’s dressed, he surveys the room. It’s nothing short of wrecked. There’s several dents in the walls, the contents of both side tables are scattered on the floor, and there’s a pile of  _ very  _ soiled bedding thrown in the corner. Proof that the best night of his life had actually happened, and it wasn’t a figment of his imagination.

     He’s suddenly overcome with a swell of emotion, and he has to sit on the bed before his legs give out beneath him. Stiles  _ loves  _ him. The thought leaves him light-headed.

     “You okay in there, Big Bad?”

     Derek startles when he sees Stiles leaning up against the bathroom door frame, a towel hanging low on his hips. Startling isn’t an easy thing to do to an Alpha. He must have been really lost in his thoughts.

     “Huh?” He says stupidly.

     “You look kind of broken right now,” Stiles says, pushing off of the frame and walking over to sit next to him. He grabs one of Derek’s hands with both of his own and holds it in his lap. “Talk to me, Der.”

     “I’m just… I guess it all just really hit me, you know? I’m not someone who gets good things. And when I’m up, fate has a way of kicking me back down. I’m more happy than I’ve been in a long time, and I don’t want it to end.”

     His fears tumble out of him, and he surprises himself. He’s not a man that talks about feelings. But with Stiles… it’s easy. He doesn’t worry that he’ll be judged or laughed at. It’s a good feeling. Stiles brings Derek’s hand up to his lips and kisses the knuckles tenderly.

     “Derek, I’m not going anywhere. The pack isn’t going anywhere. We’re more united now than we’ve ever been, and that’s not going to change. Every single one of us will fight tooth and nail to protect the perfect life we’ve worked so hard to create.”

     Derek’s breath hitches, and he has to blink vigorously to disperse the tears that threaten to spill. He lifts his free hand to caress Stiles’ cheek with the back of his knuckles.

     “I love you so fucking much, Stiles.”

     Stiles lip quirks.

     “Love you too, Big Bad.”

     “Are you two done with the feels fest?” Peter’s voice rings from the living room. Stiles snorts and gives Derek a peck before walking over to the door and opening it, poking his head through the gap.

     “We were having a moment, asshole.” The words hold no malice.

     “Have your moment on your own time; I’m hungry. Christopher and I had an eventful night, you know.”

     Stiles opens the door all the way and leans in the frame, showing off his copious love marks.

     “Not as eventful as mine, I bet.” Derek can’t see his face, but he can hear the smirk in his voice.

     “Well that’s just not fair. I don’t mark up all pretty like you do.” Peter pouts. “But let’s just say that my night was eventful  _ five  _ times.” There’s a ring of pride to his voice. Derek smiles to himself, knowing that that have the men beat.

     “Bummer, you must be so deprived. Because  _ we  _ were eventful seven.” Stiles turns to close the door, but then throws over his shoulder. “But what can you expect in old age?” before shutting the door with a cackle. Derek rolls his eyes.

     “He’ll get you back for that, you know.”

     Stiles only grins back at him, face alight with mischief.

     “That’s what I love about him.”

     Stiles drops the towel at his feet and moves to his suitcase, bending over with his back to Derek. He’s sifting through the clothes, looking for the perfect outfit. Derek gets up and grabs his hips, pulling him back and grinding lazily against his ass. Stiles giggles and pushes back into him.

     “You wanna make it eight?” He shoots over his shoulder, arching a brow at Derek.

     “You two are worse than rabbits!” Peter calls from the other side of the door, giving it three bangs with his fist. Stiles laughs and Derek lets go of him, but not before giving his ass a good swat.

     Derek sits on the bed, watching Stiles as he pulls on boxers, a T-shirt, and a pair of chinos. Derek catches sight of the back of the tee. There’s the triskele symbol, in the same spot as the one on his back, and below it in large white letters is: PROPERTY OF ALPHA HALE.

     “You have  _ got  _ to be kidding me,” Derek laughs. Of  _ course  _ Stiles would get a custom made graphic tee for the Symposium. He wouldn’t be Stiles if he didn’t. But then he turns, and Derek sees the front. There’s an image of a snarling wolf with WERECON 2014 emblazoned over and under the head. Derek damn near falls off the bed laughing, and Stiles looks more smug than a pig in shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'ALL THOUGHT THERE WOULDN'T BE A GRAPHIC TO GO WITH THIS FIC?! Hahaaaaa 😂


	17. Home is Where the Stiles is

     When they walk out of the bedroom, Peter and Chris laugh their asses off at the shirt. Stiles just gives a Cheshire grin, proud of himself at pulling off such a terrific joke. After the laughter dies down, Chris steps forward and clasps a hand on Stiles shoulder.

     “You good, kid?” He asks, looking imploringly into Stiles’ eyes. It’s a loaded question, but Stiles just smiles and nods.

     “Yeah, I’m good. Better than good. Honestly, I should be thanking dear old Duke.”

     “What we should be doing is ripping him limb from limb,” Peter growls, and tension fills the air. Stiles looks at him.

     “What, angry I kissed Chris more than I kissed you?”

     Peter gives him a sweet smile.

     “Tell me again, sweetheart, about how you  _ begged  _ me to knot you and breed you full?”

     Stiles starts choking on air.

     “You’ll- tell-  _ no one!”  _ He says between gasps of breath. “Or… Or I’ll tell Allison that her father made out with me!”

     “Hey! Don’t drag me into this,” Chris barks, crossing his arms. Him and Derek look at each other with shared sympathy. Their boyfriends are handfuls, and they both know it.

     Stiles and Peter square off for a few more seconds, but Derek can see their resolve cracking. Peter is the first to break, and his face splits into a wide grin. Stiles immediately follows, and steps forward to envelope Peter into a huge hug. Peter looks shocked for a second, but then wraps his own arms around Stiles.

     “Thank you,” Stiles says sincerely. “for keeping me safe last night. Things could have gone south fast. You and Chris… you might need therapy after the way I assaulted you, but you both still stood by me.”

     “Are you kidding? After last night, we’ll have fantasy material for  _ weeks,”  _ Peter says, laughing and letting go of him. Stiles playfully punches him in the shoulder, and gives Chris a hug too.

     “Maybe if I’m lucky, you’ll teach Peter that thing you do with your tongue,” Chris adds after they part. Coming from Chris, that takes everyone by surprise. By the time they walk out of the room, they’re all clutching their sides from laugher, and Chris is looking extremely pleased with himself.

     - - -

     They’re sitting at their table after filing through the buffet line, chatting while they eat. It’s almost like a cloud settles over them when Deucalion saunters over, stick skittering back and forth on the linoleum as he does.

     “Stiles! I didn’t expect to be hearing your voice today. I just wanted to say, I am  _ so  _ sorry I got our drinks mixed up.” His words were dripping like poisoned honey.

     “Not a problem, Duke.” Stiles stands and claps him hard on the back. Deucalion lets his lip curl, but quickly schools his face. “You actually did me a favor. I’ve been pining over Derek for like two years now. The Aphrondaesium gave me the confidence I needed to confess my deepest desires. To be completely honest, I don’t even know how I’m walking today. Best dicking I’ve gotten in like,  _ ever.”  _

     Deucalion clears his throat and shuffles uncomfortably. When will he learn that when it comes to a battle of wits, the playing field with Stiles is  _ never  _ even?

     “Well, I must be going. Enjoy the rest of your week,” Deucalion says with a tight smile. 

     “Thanks for playing Cupid, Marmaduke!” Stiles calls loudly after him, earning snorts and snickers from the surrounding tables. Derek  _ almost  _ feels bad for the man. He must be seething, but he’d be an idiot to try anything. 

     A few minutes later, Alaric comes over. Derek stands to shake his hand and offer his deepest thanks.

     “So I take it the concoction was a success, yes?”

     “Absolutely. You saved us from a night of terror,” Peter says, standing and walking around the table to shake his hand as well. “We’re in your debt.”

     “Well in that case, I was hoping I could speak with you about your pack? Deaton told me that you don’t have an emissary.” Alaric’s says it hesitantly, like he doesn’t want to overstep.

     “Are you looking?” Derek asks, thinking that Alaric would be a perfect fit. He hardly knows the man, but he’s getting nothing but good vibes. And if Deaton vouches for him…

     “I am, actually. I’m still fairly new to the whole druid thing, but Deaton said if you’d accept me, he’ll gladly take me under his wing and be my mentor.”

     “Consider it done.” Derek says, and Alaric rewards him with a huge smile.

     “Thank you, Alpha Hale.”

     Stiles stands up and sticks out his hand.

     “I’m Stiles, former damsel in distress,” he says. “I just want to say thank you, too. That clarity antidote was exactly what I needed. I’m kind of glad that it didn’t reverse the other side effects.” He waggles his eyebrows suggestively.

     “Well,” he leans in close and whispers to Stiles, “I  _ might  _ know how to make Aphrondaesium too, if you ever want a repeat performance.”

     Stiles’ eyebrows shoot up and he spins to looks at Derek. 

     “We’re keeping him.” He declares with a serious face. 

     - - -

     By late afternoon, they all agree that the Symposium just isn’t for them, and pack up to leave. None of them are keen on sticking around with Deucalion lurking. They still have four days before they fly back to California though, so while they’re being driven back to the parking garage, Stiles tools away on his phone until he finds a beach house that’s available for the remainder of the week.

     They drive to the coast, and spend the rest of their time in easy company. Their days are spent lounging on the beach, and the nights involve the local dance club. Stiles and Derek walk in on Peter and Chris more than once, and the favor is regrettably returned. The two couples see enough of each other naked to last a lifetime. Next time, Stiles decides, they’re renting separate neighboring beach houses. Everyone emphatically agrees. Because there most definitely _will_ be a next time. This vacation has made the four men closer than ever, and he find that they all genuinely enjoy each other's company. Despite feeling like he's living in a porno, at least.

     When Friday rolls around, Derek feels a pang of disappointment. It’s been an amazing vacation, and he’s a little sad that it’s ending so soon.

     “I think we’ll be coming back here,” Stiles says after they load up onto the plane and take off. He's gazing out the window, watching the landscape pass by with a dreamy look. He turns to Derek. “I think Maine is our home away from home.”

     Derek can’t agree more.

**Author's Note:**

> For more shenanigans, here are my social medias! Fair warning, there are many memes 😂 Come sip some tea with me! ☕️🐸
> 
> https://www.facebook.com/HakeberHooligan/  
> https://hakeberhooligan.tumblr.com/


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